Karaoke Night
by Lesbianfire
Summary: 5 bars, one night. Jophiel decides to take her little brother, Cas, out to drinks. Getting two highly dangerous, celestial beings drunk is most certainly a bad idea but, hey, why the hell not? Jophiel is an OC, but she's not in any relationship with the boys. Thank God. Also, there are some implications at Destiel, but nothing too big and obvious.


Angels, alcohol, and karaoke don't tend to mix well. Then again, Jophiel wasn't exactly one with a tendency to have bright ideas all the time, so it was likely that this was the sort of fucked up, seemingly terrible combination she was going for when she invited Castiel out to drinks with her.

Jophiel had made a surprise visit a few nights before, much to Dean's disappointment, but she had proven herself to be trustworthy and more bearable than other angels he had met before. Plus, Cas had promised to keep her out of trouble, so it wasn't quite as likely that they would come home from their case in Nebraska to find the bunker burned to the ground. This is why, when he and Sam took off in the Impala, Cas felt like a child following orders to babysit his younger sibling.

Quietly, he settled down in a comfy reading chair with the first novel in the 'Game of Thrones' series. The books weren't boring, but he found his mind begin to drift away from the words on the pages after a while, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was something Metatron would have read. Hurriedly, he dog-eared the page and shut the book when he heard Jophiel approaching behind him.

"Whatcha reading?" she asked as she draped herself over the back of the armchair, craning her neck to see the book cover.

"Game of Thrones," Cas muttered. "Sam and Dean like the TV show."

Jophiel shrugged and came around the chair to face her brother. She fell forward across his lap–causing him to jump–and sprawled out, lazily. "I've already read them. Don't fuck with me or I'll spoil them for you." She paused to see if Castiel would comment, then prompted the conversation further, "Are you busy right now?"

Cas made a small attempt to push her off of the chair. "Not particularly, though I would appreciate some personal space."

Ignoring him, Jophiel continued, "We're going out tonight. Sam and Dean are gone, so they can't spoil our fun."

"I'm fine," Castiel grunted, trying to pull his legs out from under her, "You can go by yourself. Thank you for inviting me."

Jophiel smirked, "We're not going for _me_. I can go to any old bar any old time, but…" she took his hand and looked directly into his eyes, batting her lashes, "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for _us._"

As he met the other angel's gaze, Castiel shook his head, "Jophiel, that's total bullshit and you know it."

"You watch your language, Cas!" she laughed and lightly swatted his chest. "I swear to God, if you keep hanging around with that Dean Winchester, you're gonna get into some trouble. I'm already feeling the rebellious teenager vibes. You need to stick to being cute and saving the world."

Castiel tilted his head to the side and squinted, but Jophiel just laughed and continued, "Seriously, come with me, it'll be fun. I think you'll have a good time."

"That's not why you want me to come. You just want to get me drunk."

Jophiel sighed, "Well, yeah, but it's not like we're gonna do anything illegal. If you change your mind I'll call it off."

Giving no answer, Cas crossed his arms and stared in front of him. The last time he remembered being properly drunk was while he was still human, and he figured that would be mild compared to what Jophiel had in mind. He, however, supposed that this would be the last time he would see Jophiel for a while, and it was fair to let her pick what they did.

He hesitated, then said, "Sure."

In an instant, he found himself standing before a bar on the east side of town. Castiel recognized it easily, but he had never been inside. It looked like the kind of place that he would feel much more comfortable avoiding. A decent crowd of people was visible through a large window beside the front door, but it didn't look too packed. Though it wasn't very dark outside, a bright, neon, 'OPEN' sign flashed in his face, just below the name of the bar: Chumley's.

"First stop," Jophiel proclaimed as she skipped ahead and pushed open the door. "It's nothing too special; we'll start off easy."

Castiel surveyed the exterior for a moment longer, then ducked inside. The place reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke–like most bars he had been to. Tables were scattered across the main floor, though most of them were empty. A few people sat at the barstools to the left, leaning back against the counter with drinks in their hands, their eyes fixed on a flat-screen TV showing a football game.

"This seems a bit _too_ mild for you, sister," Cas remarked, though he immediately regretted mentioning it.

Jophiel laughed, "I decided to hit somewhere that's more your speed to get you buzzed, and then we move on to better places."

Castiel silently cursed himself for agreeing to this and began to head for the wrap-around counter when Jophiel abruptly held out her arm to halt him. "The bartender is gay," she whispered, her tone suddenly serious. "Don't say anything dumb in front of her or I will forever prevent you from getting laid, understand me?"

He rolled his eyes, "This isn't going to be like the incident at Balthazar's quinceanera, is it? Anna wouldn't have slept with you in a million years, and you know it."

Jophiel scoffed, "Has anyone ever banged that redheaded prude anway?"

After a beat, Castiel replied, matter-of-factly, "Dean did."

Though she appeared bitter for a moment, Jophiel cracked a smile. "Of _course_ he did. But I bet you're jealous, huh?"

"No, I never really cared for Anna. Not in that way, I mean."

"That's not what I mean."

Castiel narrowed his eyes and pulled out a barstool. "I'm not sure what you're trying to imply–"

"Oh no, I'm not implying anything!" Jophiel held her hands up in surrender.

She appeared as though she was about to say something else, but Cas cut her off before the discussion could elaborate further, "I'd rather you not leave me alone in here while you go off and have sex with the bartender."

It was then that he realized with horror that the woman behind the counter had been listening to their conversation the entire time. She scowled and turned her back to the two angels.

Jophiel shot a glare at her brother as she slid onto a stool. "If there wasn't a sexu lady nearby, I would smite your ass before you could order drinks. Just shut up for two seconds and drink."

Castiel appeared unphased by Jophiels half-joking insults, however, he didn't make any further comments. Instead, he observed the humans a few seats over as they shouted strings of profanity at the TV; apparently the football game wasn't going well. Meanwhile, Jophiel ordered beers for the both of them and made small attempts at flirting with the bartender. She was a curvey, olive-skinned woman with thick, curly, dark hair. Despite her previous, cold attitude, she gave into a small smile as Jophiel chatted her up.

After a few moments of conversation, when the bartender had left, Jophiel grinned triumphantly as she handed Castiel a glass of dark, foamy beer.

"I think I might have a chance, even though you fucked up pretty bad." she smirked and cuffed Cas on the shoulder.

He looked down into his drink and murmured, "Yes, my apologies for my, ah, 'fuck up'."

"Language," Jophiel reminded him with a laugh, "Drink up, Chuck."

"My name isn't Chuck." Castiel glanced up at his sister before taking a long swig from his glass. He never particularly cared for food or drinks of any kind, as they were deemed unnecessary and revolting. The exception to this was, however, alcohol. Though Dean never failed to be impressed by the quantity of alcohol that Castiel could consume, the effects would, after a great deal of time, eventually set in. What came after that was, to say the least, interesting.

Before he knew it, Castiel had drained his first beer, and Jophiel was quick to supply him with another. And another. And another. She did, however, limit him to only four.

"Getting wasted off of beer is lame." She explained, "If I want you shit-faced, it's gonna be from something else. Besides, I don't want to have to take a bunch of bathroom breaks."

Castiel agreed and sat contently, facing the far wall with the TV, his hands folded in his lap. He didn't feel drunk; rather, he felt calmed. As Jophiel finished her own drinks, he observed the football game for a while before he leaned over to talk to the bearded man to his right.

"I am rooting for the men in white," he said, pointedly, as if he knew anything about football.

The bearded man made a sour, disgusted face. "Dude, the Packers suck ass." he frowned, then turned to his own friends.

Castiel blinked in slight bewilderment. "Perhaps but… I–I say that out of sympathy," He stammered. "Or, uh, I agree that they aren't the best of players–"

"Wow, are you always this articulate?" Jophiel laughed, clapping her brother on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You're buzzed, they're wasted, and you know absolutely _nothing_ about football. Word of advice, don't talk about a Wisconsin team in an area like this unless you wanna start a bar fight." She hopped down from her stool, snatching up a napkin that the bartender had left her from the counter. "C'mon, we're moving on."

With a sigh of relief, Castiel followed suit and instantly found himself staggering outside a different bar. He was accustomed to sudden flight, but the alcohol didn't seem to do him any favors in balancing. He steadied himself and began to survey his surroundings. This bar was significantly less warm and friendly than the last one. Not only was it on a totally empty and unrecognizable street, but the windows were completely blacked out, making it impossible to see anything on the inside. Castiel would have been certain that it was abandoned if it wasn't for a flashing, pink sign above him that read, 'Cassie's Gentleman's Club'.

Recognizing his name in the title, Castiel quirked an eyebrow and turned to his sister. "Jophiel, where are we?"

"Chicago," she replied, though her eyes were fixed on a few scribbles written on the napkin from Chumley's. "The bartender turned me down and I need a lady fix. By the way, you _really_ don't want to talk about the Packers here."

Castiel frowned, "I thought that this was supposed to be about me."

"Oh it is, trust me. You'll enjoy this place just as much as I will." Jophiel discarded the napkin and lead her brother into the bar.

"This is a bad idea–" he began, and suddenly stopped himself. AS far as he knew, Chicago was only good for monsters, pizza, shootings, and someone named Oprah. The mere _mention_ of the city was a bad idea. However, when he was immediately met with a slim, brunette woman in what seemed like _less_ than her underwear, Castiel decided to re-evaluate the situation as something worse than bad.


End file.
